


deep inside you

by parrishes



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, I'm going straight to hell for this, Is it really voyeurism if it's consensually watching people fuck??? idk, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Shameless Smut, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism, fem!reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrishes/pseuds/parrishes
Summary: Living above a club has mixed blessings. However, when you meet Genevieve and Dante, this becomes one night when you're more than glad you're there.[threesome, F/F/M. Fem!reader x Original Female Character; Original Female Character x Dante]
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s), Reader/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

The lights are flashing and the bass is rattling your bones when you see her. What catches your eye first is the way she’s dancing contentedly by herself (while everyone else has at least one partner), alone in her own space, watching all the bumping, grinding bodies around her intently. Her gaze is curious, searching, analytical, which in turn piques _your_ interest. The second thing is her outfit, which, while not entirely out of the norm for this club, is a strange combination of high-waisted vintage-style jeans, Doc Martens, some kind of mesh undershirt, and a long cardigan fastened with a loop and toggle over her chest. She is _present_ here, somehow _bright_ , in a way that the rest of the couples, sedated and anesthetized as they move, are not. Her loose braid falls over one shoulder, and… is that real _ivy_ strung through it? 

Oh no. Oh, shit. All of your buttons are simultaneously being pressed. 

Okay. Time for you to single-handedly annihilate the useless bisexal stereotype, you think to yourself, as you take a breath and wait for the next pounding beat of the music to push you in her direction, but you move too slowly and a man gets there first. He has dark hair and a neat beard, a nice jaw, good cheekbones. He’s wearing a white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a dark vest. You have to admit, if she likes this man, you can understand why, which does absolutely nothing to make you feel better.

He leans down close to her ear to whisper before pulling away and she looks up at him, then at his proffered hand, before glancing around and taking it. When she does, though, a ripple goes through her; her face and body tense and release so quickly and lightly that it’s almost imperceptible. But you notice it, and just like that, it’s gone when she smiles. Her dance partner apparently misses it, as the song ends and another one begins, but she perks up and laughs like she didn’t just shudder. 

You make your way to the bar and ask the woman behind the counter for a Paloma with double tequila. Cherry gives you a knowing look as you take a seat, glum, resting your cheek in your hand. “Maybe it isn’t as bad as all that, sweetheart,” she says, as she rummages under the counter for your highball glass. “I know it can be hard to tell, but maybe she’s just dancing with him. It’s the girl in the jeans, right?” 

“Foiled again,” you sigh, watching Cherry mix your drink. She pours in more than double of the tequila, after which she puts her finger to her lips before she stirs it. 

“For the record, you didn’t see me do that.” 

“Do what?” you ask, and then take a deep gulp of your drink after she slides it your way. Cherry smiles at you and reaches out to playfully muss your hair a little. You let her, because Cherry has been here since before you moved in three floors upstairs, and has seen you at your worst--breakups, hangovers, all of it. She has blackmail material _in spades_ on you, so it’s in your best interest to keep her happy. 

You listen to the music as you take smaller sips of your drink, lost in your own thoughts, before Cherry coughs and does a spinning motion with her finger, telling you that she wants you to turn around. 

“Incoming,” she says with a grin, before walking back to the other side of the bar to close out the tab of two boys, both of whom you’d seen before, and who were both entirely too fond of Jagermeister. 

The girl takes a seat on a stool only two spots away from the drunken boys, and after Cherry is done with them and they stagger out, she leans over to take the girl’s order. The man she’d been dancing with is nowhere to be seen, and when Cherry says something too low to hear, the girl glances around and shrugs. There’s more soft conversation and a short laugh from Cherry, and then she’s walking back to your side of the bar. 

“Her name is Genevieve, but she goes by Viv usually,” she says into your ear, bent almost flat over the countertop to reach you, “and she has no idea who that guy was.” 

“What did she order?” you reply, and Cherry chuckles again.

“Two whiskies,” she says, already reaching under for the glasses, “and a Paloma.” 

Oh, no. Oh _fuck_ , you think, watching the light play on the loose strands of--blonde, you think--hair that have fallen out of her braid, the ivy running through it, the arc of her cheekbone. Cherry returns to Genevieve with her Paloma, says something too low for you to hear, and then Genevieve’s eyes are on you and suddenly--you panic, choking on your mouthful of tequila and grapefruit and, when you cough wildly, you accidentally knock your drink over, spilling it all over the countertop. Cherry runs over with a bunch of napkins for your dripping face, digs under the counter for a wet rag for the bar, and then shoves another stack of napkins at your chest where the front of your shirt is now soaked and near-translucent. 

Genevieve sips her drink, sitting perfectly still, her eyes narrowed with concern, and you blush under her gaze before you drop your head into your folded arms. 

“I’m gonna die,” you moan under your breath to Cherry. “I almost did. I was gonna annihilate the useless bisexual stereotype and then I almost died. What the fuck.” 

“Not the smoothest reaction I’ve ever seen, but then, not the worst either.” 

“Not helping. And it’s your fault anyway,” you glare, watching Cherry out of the corner of your eye. “You’re the one who was meddling.” 

“Part of my charm, darlin’, now quit it. Suck it up. Put your big-girl panties on so she can take them off.” 

You entirely ignore Cherry at this point, because you’re too busy wallowing and moping about the fool you’ve just made of yourself, choosing instead to watch Genevieve, who sits peacefully and quietly as she drinks, observing the crowd, the bar, and you. Her eyes wander until they land on someone particular, and you grudgingly move your head an eighth of an inch until you see who she’s looking at: the man she was dancing with earlier. She purses her lips ever so slightly, and while her gaze may drift a little, you know she’s making sure the man is always in her line of sight. 

You close your eyes, not caring how it looks for you to be face-down on the counter, occasionally opening them to see Cherry giving you a disapproving, disappointed look, or Genevieve still taking slow sips of her Paloma. She’s really taking a long time with that, you think, as she idly moves the two glasses of whiskey closer to her, one leg crossed over the other. 

Vibrations from the floor hum against your cheek, and the glasses nearest you rattle as the source of the noise comes closer. You open your eyes to see yet another man standing next to Genevieve, an older man with long-ish silver hair, a beard, and the most muscular forearms you’ve ever seen. You don’t need to be standing near him to know that he’s tall, with a presence that instantly touches anyone who’s close. To your surprise, Genevieve slips neatly off her stool (god, even the way she _stands_ is pretty) and hands the man one of the whiskies, which he takes with a grin. Inexplicably lucky for you, the music chooses the exact same moment to transition to a slower, quieter song, enabling you to overhear their conversation. 

“White shirt, black pin-striped vest, dark slacks. Looks like he’s in his early thirties. Dark brown hair, beard. Nice jawline. He’s standing by the speakers.” Genevieve runs her hands over his chest while he tosses back the whiskey in one fell swoop. The man takes one of her hands and brings it up to his shoulder, taking her by the waist, and she sways into him as they begin to dance together. 

For some reason, it makes you feel lonely. And sad. And, for some strange and baffling reason, horny. You can feel your cheeks heat up, feel the softening throughout your body that you’ve come to associate with the process of your arousal.

“You’re sure that’s him, Viv?” You can see, ever-so-softly, his hand rubbing a slow circle between Genevieve’s shoulder blades. For a man who’s as rugged as this one appears to be, the action comes across as extraordinarily tender, and you watch with longing how he looks at Viv--like she’s his favorite person in the world. 

“Positive. We danced. It came off of him in waves. It shouldn’t be a problem to dispatch him though, Dante, he doesn’t feel very strong.”

Huh. That’s a weird thing to say, but… whatever. It’s their lives.

Dante spins Genevieve before pulling her back to him with a hand on her sacrum. “You two danced, huh? I feel so left out, Viv; while I was sweeping the back you were--” 

“--identifying our target. You’re welcome, by the way.” She pushes a lock of Dante’s hair behind his ear. “Get after him. And try not to make a huge mess.” 

Dante pretends to look hurt, eyes big and pleading. “You don’t trust me, Viv?” Genevieve chuckles, then pushes him away, peeling his hand away from the small of her back. 

“Get going,” she says. “But there’s no real need to rush once you’re in place. I’d like to hang out a little now that we’ve located him.” 

“Finally. This is the tenth bar we’ve tried this week.” Dante stretches his arms over his head. “Never thought I could get tired of any place where there’s alcohol to be had.” 

Genevieve leans back against the bar, her arms crossed and her eyebrows raised. Dante meets her glare with a dazzling smile and an earnest look, laughing when she doesn’t budge. “Go, or we’ll lose him. He probably already knows you’re here,” she says as she scans the crowd, then points without lifting her arm. “Actually, make that a definitely.”

Dante turns to look and curses. You look too, not caring anymore about being discreet, and watch the man Genevieve had danced with pushing his way towards the exit. Dante sighs out another curse, dejectedly giving Genevieve a laser-quick kiss on the forehead before he, too, makes his way towards the exit. 

Whatever. All of what you’ve just witnessed just makes you feel worse. You’re starting to wonder if you should just cut your losses and go upstairs to your apartment when Cherry slides another Paloma in front of you. 

“What?” you ask. “I didn’t order this, and you’re not allowed to give me free drinks anymore because Brian said so.” 

Cherry clicks her tongue, pointing to your left, and there’s Genevieve, standing right next to you. You bolt upright, only barely managing to restrain yourself from wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, instead reaching for a napkin. 

“H-hey,” you stammer. Oh, fuck it, you’re an absolutely useless bisexual and you’ll never be anything else--

“Hello there.” Genevieve smiles, eyeing how you wipe your mouth with the napkin before crumpling it up. “Are you feeling better?”

“Y-yeah,” you say. Oh, god. Cherry is probably laughing so hard right now. 

“I’m glad,” she responds, leaning toward you, reaching out to push a lock of _your_ hair behind your ear and why the _fuck_ are you reacting like you’ve never been attracted to a girl before? This is by no means your first time, so why does it feel like it? 

“Thanks for the drink, by the way.” You take a sip of it to show just how appreciative you are, because you are--it was genuinely a kind thing to do. 

“Of course. God knows I’ve been there a time or two,” Viv says, leaning on her elbows back against the oak and you try to pinpoint what, exactly, has changed about her, because something definitely has. 

You watch her, the arc of her lean, and you realize what’s changed is her _demeanor._ She still has the self-contained aura which caught your eye, but her wide-eyed, easy-going gentleness is gone. She is still somehow bright, but there’s a harder, sinuous aura to her now. Almost… not quite _predatory_ per se, but… something still, and waiting. Watching.

You’d be lying if you said it was anything other than immensely captivating. You hold your breath as she pushes another strand of hair back from your face, letting her hand trail down to rest on your neck, thumb over your pulse. 

“Your name is beautiful,” you say, because frankly you can’t think of anything better. “Genevieve. You don’t hear names like that nowadays.” 

“Thank you.” She blinks. “Speaking of which, you never told me yours.” You stammer it out, and she grins. “Your name is lovely too.” 

“It’s boring,” you say. “Common. But I appreciate it just the same.” 

Genevieve laughs at that, taking a sip of the whiskey that you’re just now noticing she brought with her. She pushes herself off of the bar with her elbows in one smooth, fluid move, and then she’s standing in front of you. “Dance with me?” she asks, looking at your mouth before glancing up to your eyes, her own twinkling. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

You take the hand she offers and then you’re both on the dance floor, bodies moving to the music. She takes your waist first, so you put your hands on her shoulders, twisting along with the rhythm. You smile, glad you chose to continue moping for as long as you did, and Genevieve laughs again. 

Genevieve is a good dancer, or can at least pass for one. She isn’t doing anything really _much_ , but it’s the quality of her movements that lend them their strength. 

You file that into the back of your mind, along with the question from your rational brain of why you’re suddenly so far gone for a woman you’ve known for a maximum of two hours, but you shove that thought away too when her hand travels down to your hip, squeezing it gently, and the softening returns full force. 

“You’re good at this,” you say, brushing her ribs with your hand, trying to fight the heat in your cheeks. 

“Mm,” she agrees, suddenly yanking you closer by the hips and the waist, so close your stomachs touch. Genevieve’s fingers brush down over the tops of your thighs, before grabbing your hips again and bringing them flush against her own. 

There’s no way for you to deny that you’re _more_ than turned on now, or resist the warmth that’s spreading throughout your body, touching all your corners and settling, comfortably, between your legs. 

You dance touching now, hips gyrating together. Genevieve’s thigh brushes your core, oh-so-lightly, and you could almost dismiss it for an accident, if it weren’t for the fact that it happens again and she’s watching your face while it does, while the sensation aches inside you. Her hands wandering lower down your back, your hips, also suggest that she’s teasing you on purpose. 

You should at least _try_ to get some wins of your own in. For your own pride, if nothing else, so you lean in and kiss her, your first kiss, trying to get a jump on this one thing. She meets your mouth easily, smiling into your lips before she takes your cheek in her hand. You feel like melted chocolate. A strange comparison, maybe, but it somehow feels apt. 

Oh, god, she’s a good kisser too. Is there anything she _doesn’t_ do well?

Genevieve releases your lips to press her own to your forehead, once, twice, three times, and suddenly you remember that she didn’t come alone… but then those lips move to your neck, and while you try so hard to convince yourself that _you don’t give a shit_ , the thought lingers. 

“Hey… what about your--your--”

“My what?” she asks, mouth busy somewhere near your ear. 

“Your Dante.” You finally get it out, sighing as you feel the blood rush even harder to your cunt.

“Oh.” She pauses, and for a millisecond you regret saying anything. But then she says, “Don’t worry about him. He’ll be fine.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Trust me. This is the opposite of a problem for him.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. “Girl-on-girl is hot, huh?” 

“Well, it is, isn’t it?” she says, her pupils blown, your mouth opened just so--and then she’s pushing you backwards until your back collides with the wall, and her mouth is on yours again. 

Genevieve’s tongue tangles with yours as you kiss. It’s fiercer now, more intense, as Genevieve makes it abundantly clear that she is not only _experienced_ , but also _not_ playing games with you anymore. You didn’t realize that she had been playing one to begin with, but the way she’s kissing you now makes you realize that this encounter will be on her terms. Her hands are everywhere--your hips, your thighs, your ribs, your breasts--before they end up in your hair, though her mouth stays upwards of your neck, not that you mind. 

You’re not passive. You touch her back, of course--her waist, her ribs, her hips, her breasts--and you can tell when you’ve touched her in a way she likes when she gives a soft sigh into your mouth. She’s playful, lathering your neck with sharp, tiny nips that are smoothed over instantly by her tongue. 

You decide to up the ante. You reach a hand up to cup a breast through the material of her cardigan, lightly skimming the side as you feel for her nipple, and Genevieve hisses. 

“Be careful,” she murmurs into your ear, pushing her chest into your hand. “I can play games too.” 

“I think we’ve established that,” you say, as your thumb gives one last brush across where you think her nipple is, feeling that you won a victory when it hardens into a point at your touch. 

Genevieve’s next bite, right over your pulse, is harder at your words, but she doesn’t say anything else. Instead she pulls away from you, taking in your face, your swollen lips. Instead she reaches to take your hips and knocks one of your feet to the side, widening your stance, as she suddenly presses you both flush together.

You’re straddling her thigh now, and she has it pressed directly against your cunt. Genevieve increases the pressure, oh-so-slowly, and you moan when she rotates her leg in tiny circles, trying to follow it as best you can, until the contact vanishes and you’re left wanting and whining in frustration. 

“You won’t win this,” she whispers against your neck, slipping her hand between your legs, “but by all means, go ahead and try. You’ll enjoy losing, I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”

You choke on your cry, dazedly remembering that you’re in a public place, but Genevieve’s thumb finds your clit anyway, pulling your inseam to rub against it too. “You have no shame, do you?” you gasp as she sucks a mark over your pulse point. 

Genevieve is only an inch or two taller than you, but she either weighs more or knows how to use her weight to her advantage better than anyone you’ve ever seen. She palms the entirety of your vulva, rhythmically pressing and rubbing the heel of her hand against your clit, and every time she does it sends sparks running through your body. 

“No, I don’t,” she murmurs, sending her free hand from your hip to your breast, stroking the backs of her fingers against the hard tip of your nipple, ending with a flick of her nail that’s dulled by your clothes. “You can’t live with Dante for as long as I have without your sense of shame gradually eroding.” 

The two of you are face-to-face, almost level. Genevieve meets your eyes, yours a soft brown to her blue, scrutinizing you, analyzing you, and for some reason you want her to _see_ the passion that’s lurking underneath your surface. You want her to _notice_ you. You surge towards Genevieve, startling her, and kiss her, biting her lower lip hard enough that she gasps.

You kiss her roughly, because she seems to be into that, and she laughs hoarsely against your lips when you squeeze her side. Taking a handful of her ass, though, appears to be the limit, as she pries your hand away and grips your chin harshly, turning your face up to hers. 

“No,” she says, your noses touching. “It was a good try, but no. You don’t get to run the show tonight. I do.” Genevieve angles her head to kiss you again, and it is so slow, so deep, so thorough that you completely surrender to her, and you know that she can feel the exact moment when you do. You’ve never believed that a kiss could bring someone to their knees before, but now you realize that you’ve never known what a good kiss was either. 

But it doesn’t last. Genevieve is lifted off you abruptly, and you watch, momentarily stunned, as her back hits the wall next to you with a dull thud and a low grunt. 

Dante doesn’t even appear to notice you there, or if he does he doesn’t seem to mind. He only bends his head to kiss her, much the same way as she was kissing you, his body crowding her smaller one against the wall, the hand on her cheek keeping the whole thing from appearing too violent. Genevieve doesn’t seem perturbed, though; she smiles beatifically when he releases her mouth and reaches up to trace his jaw with her fingers. 

You figure that this is probably your cue to leave, so you take a breath and several seconds, waiting for your heart to stop beating and your core to stop pounding so you can walk out of here with some semblance of dignity. There’s nothing like the waddle of shame back to your apartment with your thighs stuck together. 

But to your surprise, though, Genevieve grasps your hand when you try to pull away. Dante looks at her quizzically, and so do you. 

“Oh, come on, we were just getting started,” she tells him, one arm slung around his neck. “You do have the world’s worst timing, I’ll give you that.” 

“You know it, babe.” Dante’s fingers play with the loops on her jeans. “Sorry I took so long; little bastard ran--” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Genevieve interrupts. “Now either do something useful or make yourself scarce.” She looks at you knowingly, mischief in her eyes. “We were in the middle of something when you barged in.” 

“Yeah, I noticed. Feel free to resume any time. Don’t mind me.” Genevieve’s eyes travel between Dante and you, back and forth, and suddenly a grin spreads across her face. Dante takes one look at her and sighs, “Babe, what are you planning?”

Genevieve glances at you, then at Dante, and raises her eyebrows as if to say, “Well?”

Dante looks disbelieving, his eyes narrow. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.” Genevieve traces the collar of his shirt with her fingers, her other hand still holding yours. “Are you okay with it?” 

“Yeah, sure I am, but--” 

You push yourself off the wall. It’s a bit embarrassing that you’re only just now realizing what Viv’s proposing, but while you do find Dante handsome, if a bit old for you and slightly menacing, you just aren’t into him--or any dudes--right now. It’s not that he’s done anything, you’re just… not here for it. 

Genevieve looks at you, standing somewhat awkwardly next to them. “What do you think? Are you comfortable with the two of us?” 

You hold up your hands in a peacemaking gesture. “Look… it’s not that you’re not both hot as fuck, because you are, but…” 

“I knew there was going to be a ‘but’ somewhere in there,” Dante sighs. “I was just hoping it was gonna be your actual butt,” and Viv slaps him in the side with a dirty look. 

“... it’s just that I’m not really feeling dudes right now,” you finish. “No offense--”

“None taken.” 

“--I’m just not into any guys right now. I have been, I can be; it’s just that--”

“Stop, stop,” Genevieve interjects. Her glance is pointed. “You don’t need to justify anything to us. If you don’t want to, then you don’t want to. It’s totally okay.” 

“But that’s the thing,” you say. “It isn’t… it isn’t that I don’t want to, I just don’t… want to with him. Just you.” You like Viv, want to sleep with her desperately--but Viv and Dante are a package deal, and you can’t take just one without taking the other. 

You’re about to say goodbye and walk away when Viv says, “What if he just watches?” 

Both you and Dante turn to look at Genevieve, Dante incredulously, and you surprised. Having Dante watch the two of you? Your softening returns, the hot throbbing between your legs reasserting itself. You’re not gonna lie, it sounds kind of hot, because while you’re not particularly interested in Dante yourself, you _are_ interested in Dante and Viv _together_. 

“I’m serious,” she elaborates. “He watches until my say-so, and then the only person he can touch is me. Is that acceptable to you?”

“Y--yeah,” you say. “Yeah, that’s cool. I don’t mind if you two go at it, but I’m personally not really down for dick right now. And, just to make things a little more fair, I won’t touch him either.” 

“All right.” Genevieve turns to Dante. “Your turn. You watch until I say so, and then no touching between you and her because she doesn’t want to. Whatever happens afterwards is only between us. Are you okay with that?”

Dante runs a hand through his hair. “Sure, Viv.” He looks over at you. “Not that you’re not smokin’, but I’d prefer to keep it to my girl anyway. No offense.” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “None taken.” 

“Well.” Genevieve claps her hands together before taking your hand and Dante’s in each of hers. “Now that that’s settled…” 

And, grinning, you lead them to the elevator. 


	2. Chapter 2

You’ve barely managed to close the grate before Viv has you against the wall again, her mouth on yours, your hand on her neck. Distantly you wonder how loud the music in the club must have been, because the two of you are sure as hell making a ton of noise right now--soft pants and grunts escape your (mostly your) lips, and they turn to moans as Genevieve somehow manages to sneak a hand between your legs. 

You try not to close your eyes against the sensation of it, feeling dangerously tense as she continues to work her fingers against your clothed slit. It’s a testament to how taken you are with Genevieve because you’re only dimly aware of Dante, slumped in the corner, his eyes on you and Viv as the elevator slowly, _slowly_ makes its way up to your floor. 

“If this thing moved any slower we’d be going backwards,” he complains, shifting restlessly, clenching his fist at his side. 

“Quit whining.” Genevieve pulls back to give Dante a prim look over her shoulder. “You should be grateful that she”--Viv gestures to you--“was kind enough to let you watch.” 

“It was your idea!” 

“Maybe,” she says, her fingers still moving against you, “but it wasn’t only up to me.” 

You’ve had enough of her teasing, thrusting your hips against her hand shamelessly, stomach tight with anticipation because of the thunderous look on Dante’s face.

Genevieve accelerates the pace of the circles she’s rubbing into you and you close your eyes, only to open them when she’s pressed flush against you with a low grunt. You open your eyes in time to catch her low little moan, because Dante is there, pressing her into you, grinding himself against her, and that one moan is almost enough to make you clench. Almost. Certainly enough to make you wetter. Have you soaked through your clothes yet? 

His arms are braced on either side of your head. You smugly note that his forearms are as massive as you thought they were. 

There’s a wave that washes over you, not of arousal but a strange contentment, as the three of you find synchronous rhythms, grinding into each other perfectly… 

… at least, that’s the case until you hear the aborted sound of a zipper being abruptly pulled, and your motion stops. 

Genevieve is pulling the zipper on her jeans closed. You didn’t touch it, so it must have been Dante, who’s exhaling harshly through his nose, the hand that isn’t on Genevieve’s other hip curling almost reflexively. 

“Oh. No. No, no, no,” she says. “ _You_ don’t get to get off until _she_ does.”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” 

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Genevieve growls, trying to pry his fingers away. She wrenches his pinky back and he hisses, falling back against the wall next to you, and Viv temporarily turns away from you to kiss him on the mouth.

You moan at the sight of it. Dante is an intimidating man, and you’re sure his sheer size is just the tip of the iceberg, but to see him kissing her back like a drowning man is… something you weren’t aware that you liked as much as you do. You file that away for future reference, too. 

Dante breaks away from their kiss, and it gives your heart a twinge to see Genevieve’s mouth follow his, almost automatically. “Hey,” he says with a weak grin, “you need to be nice to me. I almost _died_ , you know.” 

Genevieve shakes her head, smiling despite herself, and you can tell she’s trying not to laugh. But she shakes her hair and the smile is gone, replaced by a fanged grin. “ _I_ need to be nice?” she demands, an incredulous look on her face. Dante nods, watching her smoky eyes. “ _I_ need to be nice? _You_ need to _behave_ ,” she finishes, threading her fingers in the rear of his hair before she yanks his head back, baring his throat to her teeth. 

Dante hisses as her tongue soothes the bite she’s just given him, his hand spread wide on her back. “If I need to behave,” he says between breaths, “then _you_ need to be careful. I’m hanging on by a thread here, Viv.” 

“I meant what I said,” Genevieve whispers, kissing his ear, hand wandering down his stomach. “You don’t finish until she does. And you need to behave yourself. No negotiations.” 

He groans as her fingers gently brush the bulge in his pants. “And what are you gonna do if I don’t? Make me stop?” 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Genevieve murmurs, staring down at him. “And it doesn’t matter, because you won’t.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“You won’t,” she repeats, her lips almost a sneer, and her tone brooks no room for argument. Dante holds her gaze for what seems like minutes, until the elevator dings that you’ve arrived on your floor and he backs down, though not graciously. 

“Come on,” you tell them as you open the grate, all your nerves on fire, anxious to get them both in your apartment. “We’re almost there, so let’s go.” 

Viv breezes out, Dante close behind her, and you take her hand in one of yours while you find your key with the other. Trying not to shake too much, you slip it in and unlock your door, dropping it as soon as you’re all inside when you cover Genevieve’s lips with yours again. 

You don’t waste any time as you guide her towards your bedroom, Dante stalking silently behind the two of you. You only let her go to dump all your dirty laundry off the chair in the corner, kicking it away, and Viv pushes Dante into it without missing a beat, one knee wedged between his body and the chair’s arm as she leans to kiss him. 

“Come on, Viv--” 

“No,” she replies before standing and coming back to you. She runs her fingers through your hair, takes your face in both her hands, and kisses you slow. You sigh into it, before wrapping your arms around her waist and spinning her towards the bed. Genevieve is quick, though, and manages to get an extra spin in, switching your positions. 

Your back hits your bed and Genevieve climbs on top of you. There’s no attempt at enforcing distance; her body brushes against yours again and again as you kiss. She slides her hands up your shirt until the tips of her fingers reach your bra. Viv pinches some of the material between her fingers, knowing full well that she has your nipple caught between them as well, and rubs. You moan, your legs shifting together restlessly, twisting in arousal, which is only amplified when you hear a belt buckle clattering against the arm of your chair. 

“Unlined lace?” she asks, still rubbing, and you nod, hoping she’d put her fingers to use between your legs when she saw how badly you wanted her, how you were throbbing, how wet you were for her. “That can’t be comfortable.”

“I’m behind on laundry,” you gasp, and Genevieve chuckles. 

“Must be itchy,” she remarks casually, and before you can agree she’s unbuttoning your jeans, wrenching them and your underwear to your knees, standing back to let you kick them away. The air is cold against your hot skin, warm with arousal and the anticipation of her next move. You can feel your wetness against the top of your thighs, and you reach down to touch it, smearing it over your skin before you take Genevieve by her belt loops. 

She’s kind enough to remove her cardigan on her own while you take off her pants, and it's not only to your surprise, but your lust as well, when the mesh you thought was an undershirt turns out to be a bodysuit embroidered with snakes. It’s completely sheer, hiding nothing, and you can see her nipples through the faint shimmer of the fabric, as well as a hint of dark curls between her legs. You reach a hand up to delicately trace over the embroidery, stroking a fingertip over one of the serpents' heads. 

“You like it?” Genevieve asks as she pulls your shirt over your head, leaving you in your itchy bra and nothing else. 

“Yeah,” you say, following the body of the snakes. “I did _not_ think you were hiding this under there. _God_ , that’s so hot.” 

“Pleased to please you,” she says as she gives your breasts a lingering squeeze. You arch your back, pushing your chest into her grip, even as the lace scrapes against your skin. 

She drags the fabric back and forth over your nipples, and you hiss and sigh because while it feels good, it does, there’s something about it that’s also somehow out of place, like a pebble in your shoe. It’s good, but it isn’t what you want, and it’s not enough. 

A growling exhale comes from the corner of the room, and Genevieve smiles. “Suck it up,” she calls to him as she reaches behind you and, realizing that there’s no clasp, merely starts to pull it over your head instead, leaving you entirely naked and spread out before her. 

There’s a muffled “ _shit_ ” and then Dante is calling back, “Viv, if you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna _kill_ you when we leave--” 

“Sure you will.” Genevieve starts to kiss a slow trail--across your cheekbone, landing on your lips, your neck--all the way down your body. You hum appreciatively, rubbing whatever part of her you happen to be touching, and each of her kisses is punctuated by a soft exhale of her breath. 

Suddenly you gasp, tugging on her hair, as her fingers dip between your thighs, her next kiss coming in the valley between your breasts.

“Fuck,” you gasp, as she probes delicately between your legs, softly parting your folds. 

“Have you been this wet the whole time?” she asks, stiffening, a dark look flashing in her eyes before she swallows it down. 

“Yes,” you moan. “Since we started dancing in the club.” She strokes your outer lips gently, and another gasp falls out of you. 

“Poor thing.” Genevieve straightens, kneeling above you. “Does it hurt? Do you ache?”

“Yes!” 

“I can fix that,” she croons, before she takes her hand away from your pulsing, aching core. You whine in frustration, at the absence of her fingers, but that whine turns into a moan when she anoints each of your nipples with your own slick. 

Her mouth closes in on your peak, teasing the very tip of it with the tip of her tongue before she swirls it down the shaft, licking all of your fluid away before she gives it a long suck. You fist your hands in her hair, sure that you’re pulling hard enough to hurt, but Genevieve doesn’t seem to mind the discomfort, or the sound of the moans that are now falling freely from your mouth. She then paints a broad stripe from the bottom of your breast to your nipple with the flat of her tongue, ending with a gentle nibble, and you almost convulse when you realize she still hasn’t gotten to your other breast yet. 

Genevieve switches to your opposite side, and over the wet slick sounds coming from her mouth, you can hear Dante saying, “Fuck, Viv, stop torturing the poor girl and just get on with it already, Christ--” 

She comes off your nipple with a wet pop. Much to your chagrin and frustration, she stands and leaves you, walking over to where Dante is sitting, and where you can see that his pants are open and his cock--

Holy shit. His forearms aren’t the only thing about him that’s massive. Jesus _Christ_. 

There’s fluid leaking from his slit, and he covers Viv’s small hand with his own as she grasps his shaft as best she can, pumping slowly up and down. 

“You know,” Genevieve says as you watch them, soaking wet and agitated, your legs still spread, “you’re being incredibly impolite.” 

“Fuck politeness,” Dante growls, thrusting his hips into her hand, only for her to shove him back down with a hand on his chest. 

“This is not how you get what you want. You know that.” Her hand moves up and down his cock, faster and faster, until he’s gripping the chair with both his hands, but Genevieve stops abruptly, and his groan is absolutely feral. 

“I’m sick of the games, babe,” he snarls, “and I’m gonna tell you _exactly_ what I’m gonna do to you and your evil ass once we’re home--” 

As she returns to you, her placid face twists into an amused smile. “Evil?” she asks. 

“Evil,” Dante agrees. “You’re fucking _evil_ , Viv, and I’m gonna make you pay for it just the way I like--” 

“--oh, I can be worse,” she interrupts with a grin. “Remember that you forced my hand with this.” With that parting shot, she returns to the bed, and to you. 

Genevieve sits undoing her braid at the edge of your bed, within arm’s length, so you reach up for the ribbon that ties the top of her bodysuit around her neck and pull it loose. The fabric flutters down to hang limply from her waist, leaving her breasts entirely bare, and you know you’d be remiss to let the opportunity go. You fondle her from behind, thumbing her nipples, relishing the small sounds coming from her throat, until she shakes you off gently and stands. 

You see the ivy from her hair clenched in her hand, and watch as she kneels between Dante and the bed, stretching to place the strand deliberately along a seam in your floorboards. 

“Your ivy, Viv?” Dante grunts, palming his flushed, swollen cock. “What’s that fucking plant gonna do to me, huh?” 

Genevieve doesn’t answer him. Instead she locks eyes with Dante as she crawls, open-mouthed, toward him, ignoring the string of curses falling from his mouth as he stands to meet her. She stops right before the ivy strand, pushing herself to kneel upright, mouth almost level with his cock, as he takes a step only to crash into what seems to be an invisible wall. 

You’re almost too aroused to be taken in by the surprise of it. So Genevieve has some magic ivy in her hair. Whatever. When is she coming back?

“That was your fucking game, Viv?” you see Dante say from the other side of the barrier. He tries to force his way through, but he cannot cross the ivy. 

“It’s Devil’s Ivy,” she states, getting to her feet. “Not without a few spells, though. Nothing full or part-human can cross what it’s set against.” 

“God, Viv,” he hisses as she walks away, “the things I’m gonna do to you once we’re back… I’m gonna bend you flat over the desk and make you _beg_ for--” 

You’re almost-- _almost_ \--sorry when Genevieve’s arrival takes your attention away from Dante’s little monologue.

“Sorry about him,” she apologizes to you, standing between your legs, acting like Dante isn’t still rattling off a list of unbelievably, indescribably filthy ways that he’s going to get even with her once they return home. She slips a finger between your legs, circling your entrance lightly. “He has no manners. I’m glad to know you didn’t completely shut off while I was gone.”

“I could never,” you pant out, circling your hips in time with her finger, trying to catch her off-guard so she can push it inside. You whine when she does enter you, and the wet noises that come from your cunt are almost as titillating as their cause.

You rock your hips against her, enjoying how smooth her rhythm is, when she adds a second finger and you instinctively arch your back. You moan when she twists her fingers while she scissors them inside you, stomach and cunt clenching, writhing on your bed, and Genevieve laughs hoarsely before she pulls them out of you. 

“Come on,” you plead breathlessly, bereft at the loss of your budding orgasm, “ _please_ , Viv… God…” 

“Keep going,” she whispers. “Beg me. It might get you somewhere.” 

“Viv, _please_ , I need it, I could feel it--” you babble, almost incoherently. Genevieve folds delicately and precisely onto her knees, rubbing her head on the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, idly rubbing a slow circle on the outside of your leg. “I have neglected you, haven’t I?” 

“You haven’t, you haven’t; I was so close, _Viv_ \--” 

She plants a soft kiss on the mole near where you know your femoral artery to be. And then another, higher up. And another, even higher-- “Let me make it up to you,” she purrs, grinning wickedly, placing your legs over her shoulders, dipping her head between your thighs, and you see stars when her tongue finds its way into your core. 

“Fuck! Oh, _shit_ \--” you groan and curse, feeling Genevieve’s tongue working you, her thumbs prying your lips apart as she licks, sucks, nibbles, and each motion makes you wetter, until you think that you’re drowning her with all that’s flowing out of you. The sound of it is obscene, but all it does is make you hornier, all the wet smacks and slurps coming from her lips on your cunt. You fist your hands in her hair again, tugging her this way and that, trying to drag her mouth to where you want it, but she isn’t budging. 

She pulls back to catch her breath, and you whimper in complaint at the loss of her mouth on your skin. “You taste amazing,” she pants, her muzzle and chin glistening with _you_. You, possessed by some primal urge you didn’t even know you had lurking inside, spread your legs even further apart, taunting her with the sight of your swollen, glistening folds, and she can’t look away. “Well played,” she says, shaking her head wryly. 

Your sudden boldness is unparalleled. “What are you waiting for?” you sniff. “Get back to it,” and, with a chuckle, she obliges. 

It’s more urgent now that she’s giving you exactly what you want, Genevieve attacking your cunt with lips and, occasionally, her teeth--never hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that you can feel it. She uses the flat of her tongue to lick from the bottom of your slit to the top, and the point to delve between, interspersing shallow little stabs inside you with broad licks, or the occasional suckle on your clit. All of it together has you panting and moaning more than you thought humanly possible. 

“Shit, oh, shit-- _Fuck_ \--” you’re losing what little shreds of coherence you have left far more rapidly than you like-- “Viv-- god, don’t stop--”

Viv shakes her head without taking her mouth off you. You’re not sure if it means that she won’t stop, or that she will, but when she pulls back the hood of your clit and sucks it into her mouth, you lose all composure and _scream_ , your hips thrashing, loud enough that you’re sure the neighbors heard. Viv doesn’t let up, though, continuing to focus all her attention on your clit, easing one finger into you to gauge your closeness to your climax. 

And you _are_ close, there’s no mistake--your thighs are trembling around her ears, your stomach is quivering, and you feel the knot in your core drawing tighter and tighter, but you want this to last a little longer. Once you come, Dante (who you’ve almost entirely forgotten about) will no doubt be more than ready to get Viv on top or underneath him, and, judging from the entirety of his little speech, he’s likely not inclined to be gracious. Or gentle. 

It may be selfish, but you’d like to have Genevieve to yourself for a little while longer. Even if that means you have to clamp your thighs together and make it hard for her to move, which is exactly what you do. 

Genevieve pushes them back apart easily, even though she has to slip her finger out to do so, frowning when you clench them shut again. She tries to worm a hand back to your cunt, but you twist this way and that and she regroups, waiting. 

“What’s gotten into you?” she asks, nuzzling the crest of your pelvis. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “Yeah,” you reassure her. “It’s just… I don’t usually come this fast… it’s kind of embarrassing…” 

“That’s what this is about?” Genevieve pulls back to look at you. “You don’t think you’re lasting long enough?” 

“Well, when you put it that way…” you say in a small voice. Genevieve looks almost irritated with you. 

She closes her eyes and inhales. “Babe. That is not a problem. I’m _trying_ to make you come. That’s the entire point.” 

You can hear Dante huff, “Oh, for fuck’s sake...” in the corner and what sounds suspiciously like splintering wood. 

“Sorry,” you say. “It’s just something I’m a little sensitive about.” 

Her face softens a little at that. “It’s all right.” Genevieve starts to stroke your thighs again, her head moving slowly, slowly back down your body. “Would you feel better if I made it so you didn’t feel bad about not… holding on?” Her voice is silky, like honey, her hands rubbing up and down your legs.

You nod, wondering what, exactly, she means to do. 

What it means is that Genevieve starts exactly where she left off, and you no longer try to keep your moans and pleas and mewls from spewing from your mouth. 

You barrel right back to the edge of your climax, Viv teasing your clit with the tip of her tongue, and you clench your muscles against it, trying not to fall off the edge just yet. 

“Hey.” Genevieve pulls back to look at you, reaching to caress you with the hand not moving between your legs. “You don’t need to fight it. Just let it happen. Just trust me.” 

You shake your head, biting your lip, gyrating against Genevieve’s fingers inside you, occasionally scissoring, occasionally rubbing or fluttering against the little knot on the front of your walls. She doesn’t stop, but slows down, laughing breathlessly when you toss your head and whine, testing to find out exactly how much more you’re able to take. 

Your orgasm rears inside you again, and again you fight it down, moaning through your clenched teeth, and Genevieve’s laugh turns into a frown, then into a searching look. 

“Oh. I see,” she murmurs, almost more to herself than you, and then she bares her teeth. Faster than you can blink, she’s stood up and flipped you onto your stomach, spreading your legs as she climbs behind you, spearing you on her fingers again without any ceremony.

You cry out at the feeling of it. There are no words. Just sounds. Just pleasure. 

“I see what you want,” Genevieve hisses in your ear, the rough movements of her fingers and the wet squelching noises driving you even closer to the edge. “You want me to force it out of you, huh? Isn’t that what you want?”

You nod frantically, because _God_ , that’s what you want. You can feel yourself tightening around her, your excitement a physical, tangible _ache_ inside you. 

She doesn’t let up. “You want me to _make_ you come. Isn’t that right? You want me to _fuck_ your climax out of you until you can’t take it anymore? I can do that. You know I can.” Genevieve pauses for breath, panting almost as much as you are, her eyes finding Dante’s across the room. “All you have to do is tell me. So tell me.”

You can barely get the words out. “Come on, Viv, fuck me, fuck me hard…” 

“Say please.” 

“Viv!” You thrash around, grasping your sheets in your fist until your knuckles are white, but she refuses to listen. You surge onto your knees to push back into her, but she forces you back down with a hand between your shoulder blades.

“You want it this way, you have to _take it_ this way,” she hisses venomously in your ear while her hair falls around you, her fingers quickening their pace as they press relentlessly against your g-spot, and you almost sob at the intensity of the sensation, at her words, and the feel of her breasts pressed against your back-- 

“Viv-- _God_ \--come on, just make me come-- _fuck_ \--please please _please_ \--” 

“Better,” she says, somehow primly, and then she’s reaching around to rub your clit and you finally, _finally_ come, with spasms so strong Viv can barely fuck you through them, your arms bowing and shaking. You don’t notice that you scream, but she slips two fingers into your mouth anyway, encouraging you to suck what remains of your slick off her digits. You do so enthusiastically, laving her fingers with your tongue until your aftershocks die down, and then you collapse flat on your face with no grace whatsoever. 

It isn’t until you feel Genevieve hit the mattress next to you that you roll over onto your back. God, you’re satisfied, limp and boneless and so very, very worn out. You turn onto your side to see Viv, head propped in her hand, smiling at you and looking only slightly the worse for wear. 

“Uh… thanks for all that,” you murmur, trying your hardest not to drift off to sleep. 

“You’re welcome,” Viv responds, raising her eyebrows, clearly amused by your lack of any sort of filter. 

Your energy is almost entirely gone, but Genevieve’s isn’t, and now that urgency of your passion has cooled you can observe her more closely: the restless way her thighs brush together, the faint glimmer of wetness you see on them, the fact that her nails are painted oxblood red. Her hair is a slightly darker shade of blonde than you originally thought, but it’s far longer than you expected it to be, with messy waves and curls from its time in her braid. 

“Hey,” she says, tapping you gently on the ribs, “do you mind if I see that book on your nightstand?” 

You hand it to her, not giving a single shit in the afterglow of your orgasm, watching as she places it down and kneels upright. You watch as she undoes the lower clasp of her bodysuit, pushing it all the way down until it falls past her hips, and as she tosses it gently to the side you realize what’s about to happen. 

Your eyes fall on Dante in the corner, and he looks absolutely _feral_. His teeth are clenched, his knuckles are white, and his cock, standing proud in his messy, open pants, is so flushed and hard that it looks almost violet in the low light. You’re not sure when he took off his shirt, but you’re grateful, because it gives you a chance to admire the sculpted planes of his powerful body. You may not want to sleep with the man, but that doesn’t mean you’re blind.

Genevieve takes a breath, steeling herself, then tosses the book at the ivy strand, knocking it out of place. 

Instantly Dante is out of the chair and on the bed. You scoot to the side, giving him as much space as you can, but your mattress isn’t all that large and it’s a tight fit with all three of you up there. But Dante isn’t interested in you anyway, barely giving you a second glance as he focuses his attention on Genevieve, who he hovers over ominously. 

“That was quite a show you put on,” he hisses, stroking back her hair, palming her neck. “Went a little _long_ for my tastes,” Dante continues, “but it was something alright.” He squeezes her throat at that last statement, and Viv lets out a tiny, high-pitched moan that has the sparks of arousal in you beginning to stir again. 

She reaches out for his cock and finds it easily, but to your surprise, Dante pulls her hand away before she can wrap it fully around his shaft. 

“You don’t want me to touch you?” she asks from under her lowered eyelids, shifting lightly to caress his hip with the outer edge of her foot. “You listened to me. You were so good. You deserve it.” 

His cock jumps at her words, but Dante stays firm. “Nice try,” he grunts, pushing his pants all the way off, dropping them onto the floor. “I know what you want, and you’re not gonna get it.” 

“I want what you want,” Genevieve says, angelically sweet, and you try to reconcile the compliant, gentle woman in front of you with the woman who had thoroughly topped you and fucked you limp only minutes ago.

“ _God_ , you’re incredible,” he sneers, trapping both her wrists above her head in one of his big hands. “And so fucking shameless. I wonder who you learned that from, because I know it wasn’t me.” 

You snort, remembering what Viv had said to you in the club, but more than that, you’re glad she chooses not to dignify him with an answer, because you’re entranced by how he touches her in her silence. You can appreciate Dante’s beauty without finding him arousing, much the same way you can be aroused, not by him fucking you, but by how he and Genevieve fuck each other. 

Maybe Viv was really onto something with this whole idea. Maybe you _do_ have a thing for watching. 

The hand not restraining Viv’s wrists travels down her body, face to throat to chest, pausing in the valley between her breasts before continuing on, brushing over her stomach almost tenderly before it dips between her legs. 

You’re enchanted by the sharp intake of breath Genevieve draws in, by the way you can see the tendons in Dante’s wrist cord, by how she rocks her hips into his hand. Your sparks stir a little more when you really take in the scene, how much _larger_ he is than her, the soft wet sounds that come whenever he moves his hand. 

“I can’t believe how wet that made you,” he muses, tendons in his arm still intermittently flexing. “Maybe I should have taken notes.” Then, without any warning, he withdraws his fingers and flips Genevieve, roughly, onto her stomach.

She takes it all in stride, turning to regard him softly over one shoulder, moving with him easily as he kneels behind her and gathers her into his lap. Dante presses soft kisses to her neck and her head lolls to one side, reaching up to caress his hair with one hand, only to end with a sharp yank that has Dante sinking his teeth into her skin. 

“ _Fine_ ,” he hisses, adjusting her limbs like a doll so that she straddles him, occasionally brushing his cock with her folds. Dante nips a trail down from the nape of her neck to her shoulder blades, his hands on her hips controlling when and how Genevieve can grind herself against him, if he allows it at all. 

You watch one of Dante’s hands slip from her hip to circle her clit, and when she thrashes and howls like an animal at the feeling he tightens his grip on her, holding her even more tightly against himself. You can see the muscles in Genevieve’s thighs working, a light sheen of sweat and her own wetness coating them as she moves. One of her hands moves to clench in Dante’s hair, the other on his own thigh, and when her nails dig into his skin he groans, then takes her hips in hand again. 

Your arousal reignites when Viv lets out a sound somewhere between a hiss and a whine at the loss of his fingers, but Dante isn’t having it. 

“Breathe in,” he orders curtly and she does, Dante taking his cock in one hand, positioning Genevieve above so that his head probes at her entrance. “Out,” and on her exhale, he guides her down his length, both of them moaning when he’s sheathed as far as he can go inside her. 

Even with Genevieve sitting perfectly straight on top of him, you can see there’s still a significant portion of Dante’s cock that remains outside of her. You honestly aren’t sure how she managed to get as much inside as she did, and mentally you give Viv a round of applause for being such a champ.

If you were surprised at Dante’s size with Genevieve astride him, you’re even more startled to watch him press her forward onto her hands and knees. You were never a huge fan of this position, but even you remember how it made your entrance tighter, changed the angle, and you wince when you imagine Dante entering her this way. It would definitely be uncomfortable for her, if not outright split her in half. 

Dante bends her forward even further, and Genevieve drops from her hands to her elbows, her ass in the air, as he begins to rock himself into her, gently at first, then more forcefully as he gradually picks up speed. 

“You know the only reason I’m starting slow is because I’d break you otherwise,” he whispers to her, pulling her hips back with every forward snap of his own. “You know how hard it was for me to hold myself back while you were fucking her?” 

Genevieve groans in response, wiggling her cheeks against him, and he slaps the curve of her ass forcefully. 

“Instead of watching you get her off, I imagined all the things I’d do to you instead,” he continues, mouth hovering by her ear. “And I imagined so much, Viv. I imagined bending you face down over the desk in the shop, spreading you open, and you were so eager, so sweet, so wet for me, _begging_ me for it--” 

Viv moans, grinding back into him, but Dante isn’t done.

“--getting on my knees for you, eating you out until you’re raw, screaming yourself hoarse--” 

You find yourself imagining it too--Dante on his knees, face buried between Genevieve’s legs the way hers was buried between yours, using his tongue to attack her folds, the near-pained expression on her face as he takes her clit into his mouth--and you slip your hand between your own legs, rubbing at yourself while you let Dante’s words wash over you. 

Every one of Dante’s thrusts has Genevieve groaning and gasping, her fingers clutching at your sheets until they’re white-knuckled and clawlike, strands of her hair plastered to her face with saliva and sweat. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and you almost wish Dante could see Viv as you see her, open-mouthed and wordless from the pleasure of his movements. 

Your fingers find your clit and you moan, bringing Viv’s and Dante’s eyes to rest on you. Dante watches you touch yourself with a dark look in his eyes, but Genevieve smiles at you, nodding her head when you rub at your clit again, writhing against your own hand. 

You tense when you see Dante’s hand approaching your free wrist, but he stops suddenly, as if just remembering the rules you all set. 

“Sorry,” he pants out, “I had an idea--” and then he gives a guttural groan at _something_ \--Genevieve is looking over her shoulder prettily and _far_ too innocently--and abandons whatever it was he was going to say to pound into her ruthlessly, until each one of her cries is almost a sob.

You offer him your hand. “If it’s for her,” you say over the sound of their slapping bodies, “then it’s okay. I don’t mind if you touch me to help me touch her.” 

Dante seizes your wrist once you’ve given your acceptance, angling it to place the flat of your palm right between her pelvic bones. 

“When she starts to come,” he tells you, “press down as hard as you can.” You nod, and he continues his brutal pace--you watch as all the cock Viv can take disappears into her, then reappears, then disappears again, glistening beautifully each time it emerges. 

Dante’s hand travels around to her front, his wrist brushing yours, and you realize what he’s doing when Genevieve roars and clamors, the breathless “ _fuck!_ ” coming from her throat almost a groan, and Dante smiles, as venomous and demanding with Viv as she had been with you. 

“You can take it,” he murmurs, his voice firm but soft. “You can take it. I know you can. A little bit longer--” 

Genevieve shakes her head from side to side, her expression almost pained, biting her lip to keep her cries contained. You circle your clit once last time and you come again to the sight of Viv trying valiantly to keep up with Dante’s punishing rhythm--but she’s faltering, muffled gasps falling out from behind her lips as she braces herself against the mattress, even if each of Dante’s thrusts pushes her towards the head of your bed. 

Your orgasm is nowhere near as intense as the one Viv had coaxed out of you, but it’s pleasant nonetheless and you’re satisfied with it, now choosing to focus all your attention on Viv, not wanting to miss the moment she loses herself completely. You know, without a doubt, that it will be nothing short of glorious. 

“Come on, Viv--just a little longer--” Dante hisses through gritted teeth “--that’s it--you’re almost there, you can do it--” 

She moans at his words, shaking her head again, eyes screwed shut. Her whole body is trembling like a leaf in a rising wind, arms and legs quivering with the effort of not completely collapsing flat on her face. 

“Come on--” he pants as his thrusts reach a fever pitch, his fingers still working furiously at her clit “ _\--shit_ \--come on, Viv, you can now--”

Genevieve gasps brokenly in response, and then her body seems to hang, frozen into stillness--and then she’s suddenly _alive,_ going wild: hips thrashing, head back and tossing, hair flying, mouth open as all her little moans, sobs, pants all fall out. You press down on her stomach the way Dante told you to, realizing that it’s probably forcing the sensitive little knot inside her walls straight against the head of his cock, and you smile at at the way her cries get louder when you increase the pressure. 

Dante meets each roll of her hips with his own as he leads Viv through the aftershocks for what must be minutes, crouched over her all the while, fingers still moving furiously between her legs as his thrusts become sharper, quicker and jerkier-- and then he’s slamming home one last time as he comes with a low roar, his grasp on Genevieve’s hips hard enough to bruise. 

Gently, they rock together, Dante pressing soft kisses along Viv’s back in between his pants, their fingers slowly coming to interlace. You had been right to think that watching the two of them together would be special, and it is--not only because of the absolute _beasts_ they both are in bed, but because despite all the aggression, it’s intimate. Almost sweet. Certainly loving. You were excited to see Dante absolutely _wreck_ Genevieve, it’s true, but you’re also excited to see this side of them. The softer side. 

“Breathe in,” you hear Dante whisper to Viv, “and out--” as he withdraws. Genevieve collapses gracelessly on her front, thighs still spread, and you’re treated to the extremely pleasant sight of Dante’s seed leaking out of her, through the curly hair between her legs, splattered on her skin, some of it dripping on your sheets. You know Dante appreciates it too, because he stares at it for what seems to be a while before settling himself beside Genevieve and wrapping an arm around her. 

And then, before you know it, all three of you are asleep. 

-

The next morning, you wake before either of them, desperately needing to pee. You grab a shirt that you know is yours, throw it on, and hurry to the bathroom, hoping to be back before either of them reach full consciousness. You initially think you’re successful as you slide back under the covers, only to see Dante’s eyes are open, regarding you lazily.

Well now. This is awkward. 

“Hi,” you whisper, breaking the silence. What else is there to say?

“Hi,” he grunts back, twisting away from you briefly to stretch, and then you see his naked cock--even flaccid, it’s still bigger than most of the dicks you’ve had. You try your best not to blush, but he notices your staring. “Go ahead; take a look,” he says. “Really not a lot left to be shy about,” and you have to concede that he’s right. So you do as he says: you look. Thoroughly. 

“... good God,” you stammer out at last. “That’s…” You look at him, then at petite little Genevieve, who’s curled up on her side, tucked into his body. “How do you two…” 

“Carefully,” he answers. Then he sighs. “It can be hard. I don’t want to hurt her, even by accident.” 

The unspoken words linger in the air: that he has. He might not have meant to, but he has. 

Both you and Dante start when Genevieve stirs into half-consciousness, and mutters something that sounds _suspiciously_ like, “That’s what she said.” Dante snorts, but sneaks a soft kiss into her hair anyway. 

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says. “Glad you could join us.” 

“Fuck you,” Genevieve replies without missing a beat, her voice still slurred and thick with sleep. It’s quite charming. 

“You did. You have. Many, _many_ times.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Dante sighs dramatically as he pulls her onto his chest. “No can do, sweetcheeks. You’re already tired of me?” 

Viv grumbles and rolls off him, completely ignoring Dante’s laughing, and flips onto her back. She stretches her arms over her head, only to go stock-still, eyes wide. 

Dante’s watching her. He has a knowing look on his face, but it’s twitching, like he’s trying not smirk and failing miserably. 

“Oh my god.” Genevieve looks accusingly at him. “ _Fuck,_ Dante--”

“I’m not apologizing,” he responds primly, but smug, looking her dead in the face. “You knew what you were getting into.” 

Viv flops back on to her side. “Oh my god; everything hurts, Jesus _Christ_ \--” 

“Still not sorry.” Dante looks at her. “You good?”

“In a minute--” she holds up her hand. “Let me get it out first: _shit! Fucking hell! Motherfu--_ ”

You’re amazed. In under forty-five seconds Genevive has unleashed a string of curses that would make even a sailor’s ghost blush. Ending on a very emphatic “ _f_ _uck!”_ she covers her eyes with her arm, like a Victorian maiden who’s just fainted on to her chaise lounge. 

Dante’s eyebrows are raised. “You done?” 

“Yep,” she mutters from behind her hand. Sitting up, her eyes land on you, and she smiles. “Good morning,” she says, suddenly cheerful, leaning toward you to press a light kiss to your lips. Behind her Dante observes, hand stroking along her spine, brushing her hair aside. “When did you get dressed?” 

“When I went to the bathroom,” you reply. Dante starts at that, before almost _leaping_ from the bed.

“Thanks for the reminder. I can’t believe I could hold it this long--where is your bathroom, by the way?” 

“Down the hall, second door on the right,” you answer. 

“Noted.” Dante doesn’t bother to cover up, instead making his way out of your room and down the hall completely naked. In this moment, you’re suddenly very glad that you don’t have a roommate. 

You do manage catch Genevieve sneakily watching Dante’s ass as he walks away, though, a sly grin curling over her lips. 

“Busted,” she sighs when she notices you’re watching her. She jerks her thumb in the direction that Dante has just gone. “In my defense, you can’t blame me. You could bounce a quarter off that thing.” 

You nestle your head into the crook of her neck and shoulder, seeing purple bruises from Dante’s teeth mottling her skin. You have to admit Viv has a point. “He does have a great ass.”

She leans her head against yours. “He really does,” she agrees, and then suddenly the both of you are laughing, and that’s how Dante finds the two of you when he returns to the room. 

“Something funny happen while I was gone?” he asks, stepping into his underwear and pants, zipping up his fly. 

“Not exactly.” Viv gives you a knowing look then gets up herself, but not before wincing and groaning. “We just found out that we have a few things in common.” 

“I don’t even wanna know,” he says, looking for his shirt. You guess that’s that.

Genevieve shrugs and reaches for her suit. Holding it her hands, she asks, “Is it even worth it to put this thing back on?” 

“Up to you,” Dante responds. “I’d say on, but that’s only because I want to take it off you later.” 

Genevieve steps into her suit, reaching back to tie the ribbon behind her neck. “Oh, you and I are certainly going to have a _talk_ later.” 

You slip into your underwear, feeling that if they’re both getting dressed, you should too. You know that this was never going to be anything other than a one-night stand, but still… you’re sorry to see them go. You think you might like them as people, much to your surprise. You want to get to know them more. 

“Hey,” Genevieve asks, “could you hook this for me?” You do, making sure that you brush her skin as much as you can before she leaves. “Thanks, you.” 

“I guess this is it then, huh?” you ask, trying to ignore the odd twinge in your chest, looking anywhere but at them. You settle on your window, where the dahlias you had planted in an old pot were now blooming in vibrant shades of peach and lavender. Actually, all of the flowers in your room are blooming. Weird, but not unwelcome. 

“Guess so,” Dante responds. He has his coat on, waiting for Genevieve to fasten her green cardigan. “Ready to go, Viv?” 

“Mm,” she agrees, but then suddenly she abandons her task to start sticking her hands in Dante’s pockets. 

Dante is just as puzzled as you. “What are you doing, babe?” 

“Looking for something.” 

“Looking for _what_ \--” he starts as Viv pulls back with a triumphant noise.

You see a crumpled piece of paper in her fingers. “Here,” she says, placing it in your palm, and you unfold to see a business card: _Devil May Cry_. “In case you decide you want a repeat.” 

“Or in case _you_ decide you want a repeat,” you hear Dante mutter, and you giggle. 

“Thanks Viv,” you say, and you mean it. You really, really mean it. 

She smiles. “Sure thing.” Turning to Dante with a beaming smile, she says, “Okay, _now_ we’re ready to leave.” 

“Finally.” Dante might grumble and gripe, but now you think you’d know if he were truly angry, and he most definitely isn’t. He slips his arm around Genevieve’s waist and turns to look at you. “Maybe we’ll see you around, kid. Remember to keep your options open.” 

Viv nods. “I know I had a great time. Hopefully we’ll see you again. And thank you for being so accommodating.” You walk them to your door, taking in the way Dante holds her side, how she leans into him for support, partially because she craves the contact, but mostly because she’s ridiculously sore and practically limping. 

As you open the door, you grin. “Remember to take it easy on each other every now and then, you two,” you snark. “I don’t think Dante’s patience could handle a repeat of last night.” You look Genevieve up and down appreciatively. “And neither could Viv’s pelvis.” 

“Viv’s pelvis has been through worse,” Dante shoots back with a sigh. “Adios,” and then he’s walking down the hallway to the elevator. 

Genevieve is still standing in front of you. “One last thing…” she begins, and you can hear Dante’s exasperated groan from your place on your threshold. “You know, if you’re ever feeling lonely, I’m sure Cherry would love to give you some of her time.” 

With that, Genevieve smiles, gives you one last quick kiss, and follows Dante down the hall, leaving you standing stunned in your doorway. You hear their conversation fade away as the elevator descends: 

“You know, I was thinking we should stop for donuts.” 

“Dante, I swear to god, one of these days I’m going to kill you.” 

“Looking forward to it, babe.” 

You smile, and shut the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks--
> 
> This is my first DMC fanfiction, my first reader-insert piece, and my first experience writing a threesome, and I'm quite nervous about posting it, so please be gentle with your feedback, if you have any. Any constructive notes are always welcome, and thank you for reading. 
> 
> [title taken from this absolute bop of a song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFvIZwaQiXI)


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